Rose and Crown
by Megan Lo Saurus
Summary: France unexpectedly runs into England. There is some hurt/comfort, some fluff, some whisky, and some angst. And, obviously, FrUK.


A/N - So this was going to be part of a multi-chaptered fic that I was going to write, but in the end I just couldn't be bothered so instead we have this tiny snapshot.

If you do want some backstory, then… Use your imagination :3

Also, I make up words sometimes. Sorry. And sorry if it's too cheesy. If you liked it, check out the continuation written by the awesome theflawintheplan - it's called 'Wishing Only Wounds the Heart' and it's EnglandPOV :) Muchos gracias to her!

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><p>The Rose and Crown was a typical English pub; dark, noisy, and foul-smelling. France nearly turned back in disgust, but he'd come this far and wasn't about to give up now.<p>

He still wasn't quite sure why exactly he'd decided to cross the channel. It had just been one of those days. Rounding the evening off with some of England's cheap alcohol seemed somehow appropriate. Pushing through the crowds of people, France made his way over to the bar.

He was about to order a pint of England's self-proclaimed 'piss-poor lager' when something caught his attention.

In a shadowy corner of the bar there sat a familiar figure. Hunched over his glass, messy blond hair flipped over his face, was none other than England.

_"Angleterre?"_

England turned and stared at France. There was a moment of silence between them before England turned back to his drink and said, "I didn't think you'd be here."

Each word was pronounced slowly, carefully elucidated around the haze of whisky. France could tell he was drunk. "I didn't think I'd be here either."

He sat down. "How many have you had, _mon petit?"_

England waved a hand towards the fortress of empty glasses scattering the surfaces around him.

"You're going to regret it in the morning."

England ran his finger around the lip of his tumbler. 'Probably.'

"Come on. I'm taking you home."

An only slightly protesting England let himself be dragged away.

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><p>It was summer, but it was English summer, and that meant that they left the pub to a steady drizzle of rain. It didn't seem to bother England, though - he closed his eyes and turned his face to the sky.<p>

Rather than dragging him, France decided to wait for a little. Soon, England started to look if not happier, slightly more content.

England opened his eyes. "France -" he started. He stopped abruptly and looked back at the falling rain.

"Are you alright, _mon cher?"_

England blinked out of his trance and nodded quickly. "Yeah, fine. Let's go?"

France nodded and they kept walking.

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><p>Eventually, they arrived at England's front door.<p>

France waited patiently for England to remember the keys. When it became clear that he wasn't going to any time soon, France unlocked the door with his own key, hoping England wouldn't remember in the morning.

Instead of going inside, England just stood on the doorstep, swaying slightly, and stared at France. Eventually he said savagely, "This is a shit day."

France nodded.

"Absolutely shit." England murmured.

To his horror, France saw two glistening tear tracks whisper down England's face. He stepped forwards and took his face in his two hands._ "Dieu!_ I never thought… I…" He smoothed his thumbs over England's cheekbones, brushing the tears away.

Only then did England seem to realise he'd been crying. He touched his head, and laughed shakily. "Fuck, I guess I'm more pissed than I thought."

He was trembling now, and France felt something inside him wrench painfully. He wrapped his arms around England, and pulled the younger nation into a hug.

England immediately went rigid.

After a few seconds, France drew back slightly. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't hold England forever. But before France could pull away, England's arms came up around him, and England's face was buried in his neck.

France lost count of how long they stayed like that, but it hadn't been long enough when the clap of a firework made England lift his head to see.

Another firework exploded, filling the sky with showers of golden stars.

"Make a wish," England said quietly.

Looking at England's eyes, France could see the reflection of a thousand falling stars, caught for a moment in emerald green. He looked back up at the sky and traced the cobwebbing fireworks.

_I wish you loved me too._

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><p>Feel free to review :)<p> 


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